by Leslie LaFoy
Aiden thanked Emmaline one more time and then followed
Mohan out of her shop. And stopped dead at the sight of
Rose Walker-Hines advancing on him. Sweet Jesus. What
other nasty, god-awful things were in store for him today?
"John Aiden!" she cried, reaching out for him with both
hands. "Why is it that I'm always meeting you in front of a
millinery shop?"
"Pure coincidence, Rose," he answered, taking her hands
in his in an attempt to get her to halt a respectable distance
out. She didn't, of course. Her breasts impacted his chest full
on and he had to take a half-step back as she kissed his cheek
just to keep her momentum from toppling him onto his back.
The instant she drew away enough to look at him, he
cleared his throat and cast a quick glance toward Mohan.
She took the cue beautifully, but not in the vein he'd
hoped. Instead of circumspectly stepping away, she tightened
her hold on his hands, smiled at Mohan and asked, "Who is
your young friend? Aren't you going to introduce us?"
"Rose, Master Mohan Singh," he began, resigned to making
the best of it and then getting away as quickly as he could.
''Mohan, this is the wife of a friend of mine from years past,
Mrs. Geoffrey Walker-Hines."
"Madam."
"Well, aren't you a darling little boy:' Rose crooned at his
polite response and bow. And then, like a spigot being shut
off, she promptly dismissed the boy's presence.
She reached up and ran the edges of Aiden's jacket lapels
between her fingertips. "You haven't sent word of when
you'll be coming to dinner, John Aiden." She looked up at
him, pouted, and fluttered her eyelashes. "You promised that
you would."
And he'd once been attracted to such a coquettish performance?
He'd been insane. Barrett and Carden should have
had him locked away for his own good. "My apologies for
the oversight," he offered tightly. ''I've been busy the last
few days and it slipped my mind. I'll attend to it tomorrow."
"What about today? Right this moment?" she pressed.
She patted the center of his chest and wrinkled her nose in
what he supposed she considered a flirtatious smile. ''That
way it can't slip your mind again or be postponed. How does
this Saturday evening sound to you? And please don't tell
me that you've already made plans."
He had no idea what Alex intended to do Saturday evening,
but, whatever it was, he wasn't going to miss it to be with Rose
Walker-Hines. ''Actually, I do have an engagement already."
''And for Saturday evening next?" she asked, irritation
lacing her words as she pointedly arched a brow.
"I'm sorry, Rose, but it's a standing engagement."
"Well, surely she lets you off the leash one night a week,"
she snapped. Then, apparently thinking better of her tone
and approach, she sighed and summoned a more honeyed
manner. Leaning closer, she said softly, "Geoffrey always
plays cards at his club on Wednesday and Friday evenings.
Would either of those be possible for you?"
"Not at this time," he replied, trying his best to look at
least a little regretful. "Perhaps in a few weeks. And then
again, perhaps not. I'd be reluctant to make a promise today
that I might not be able to keep. I hope you understand."
"Oh, I do indeed," she quipped, her brow arching again.
''And I also understand how such commitments can quickly
change. Especially with you."
He thought about reminding her that the shoe fit her dainty
little foot too, but decided against it. Trading insults would
only prolong his agony. Instead, he smiled and shrugged
roguishly.
"The invitation remains open, John Aiden." She stepped
forward to press her breasts against him again and plant another
kiss on his cheek. "Please don't be boorish and ignore
it forever," she admonished, furiously fluttering her lashes as
she inched off toward Emmaline's door.
One last lie ... "It was nice seeing you again, Rose."
"It's always a pleasure to see you, John Aiden," she countered,
pausing halfway across the threshold. "And I'd dearly
love to see more of you. Soon."
She turned away and he instantly did the same, his heart
thundering in relief to have escaped largely unscathed. Scrubbing
his hand over his face, Aiden expelled a hard breath and
shook his head in wonder. Had Rose always been so incredibly,
tactlessly predatory?
"If she is the wife of your friend," Mohan drawled as they
started back toward the Blue Elephant, ''why did she invite
you to dinner the evenings her husband is not home?"
"You noticed that, huh? I was rather hoping you hadn't."
"Is she your companion?"
Aiden winced. "That was delicately put." But, he realized,
if the boy was perceptive enough to guess the truth, the
time had probably come to discuss such matters openly. And
considering that this very necessary part of his education
was well outside Alex's expertise, he should be the one to
address it. He knitted his brows as a riddle presented itself
for consideration. He wasn't the first man to have kissed
Alexandra Radford. And she wasn't one of those skittish
women who bolted at the merest suggestion of physical
attraction. God, no.
If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never
forget the way she'd looked up at him when he'd threatened
to ravage her on the stairs. And yet he'd bet his soul that
Alex was a virgin. How she could be so obviously innocent
and yet so breathtakingly carnal at the same time was beyond
him. It did, however, make him curious. A long road
stretched between kissing and lovemaking. How far had
Alex traveled before she'd met him? How far would she let
him take her?
"Was I too delicate?" Mohan asked, intruding on his
speculations. "Should I now attempt to be less subtle?"
Aiden chuckled and allowed the boy credit for persistence.
"Just between us men, Mohan ... Rose was a lover.
We parted ways a good long while ago."
"Before she became the wife of your friend?"
"One, he's not really my friend." Aiden clarified. "You say
things like that just to be polite. And two ... " He took a
breath and committed himself to providing Mohan with what
Alex would undoubtedly consider an unseemly education.
''No, it wasn't before she married him. It was after."
"If she was one of my father's wives, my father would
have had you killed for that"
''Those sorts of ... transgressions are viewed differently
in England," he explained. "It's fairly common practice for
husbands to have affairs. Sometimes the wives do, too. As
long as everyone's discreet, it's considered acceptable."
Mohan stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and considered
the near distance with narrowed eyes. "Why," he asked
slowly, "would a man marry a woman and then let her lie
with another? If he cares for her enough to bring her into his
> household, would he not care enough about her to keep her
for only himself?"
It was a damn good question. One that he hadn't thought
to ask until he had been quite a few years older than Mohan.
"Some people marry for reasons other than love, Mohan.
Wealth and social standing being the most common. They
don't so much care about the person they marry as they care
about what can be had from the union in a tangible sense. As
long as that isn't threatened, they're willing to overlook
physical affairs." He shrugged and added, "Personally, I
think it's a shallow life."
"Yet you engage in the affairs with married women?"
So much for delicate. But it was an honest question and
deserved an honest answer. "Yes, I do. Whenever possible,
actually."
"Why?"
"I knew you were going to ask that," he admitted with a
rueful smile. The boy was naturally curious about matters of
casual sex and just as obviously wholly uninformed. How to
tell him what he needed to know without telling him more
than he could use at the moment? "Look, Mohan," he began,
remembering how his own father had explained it to him years
and years ago. It had served him well enough to be worth passing
on. ''There are several distinct categories of women. The
first one is those you just don't think of in any physical way at
all. Your mother and your sisters, for example."
"And the queen."
"Exactly." Aiden relaxed, pleased and thinking that their
discussion was going to go extremely well. The boy was
quick. "And then there are the ones you do notice that way,
but know better than to touch. For example, Seraphina, the
wife of my friend Carden. Seraphina is a beautiful, exceptional
woman and if she weren't Carden's wife I'd be willing
to stand in the queue to court her. But she's devoted to Carden
and I know that if I ever so much as touched her .. .
Well, if she didn't kill me on the spot, Carden would, and it
would mean the end of two friendships that I value very
much. It's not worth the risk."
Mohan nodded but didn't say anything. Aiden took it as a
sign of his understanding and went on. "And then there's the
kind of women that someone like you and I would marry.
Women like Seraphina was before she married. Their interest
and attentions will someday belong solely to their husbands
and they don't go around passing out their favors
before they meet him. You respect women like that for their
strength of character and good virtue. You don't pursue them
unless you fully intend to pledge your life and fidelity to
them."
Again Mohan nodded but kept his silence. Aiden took a
deep breath and let it out slowly. "And that leaves the last
group of women," he began, "married or not, who make
themselves available to you without strings or any conditions
beyond a bit of discretion and an ability to please them
in bed. I call them the giving women. It's either them or
nothing at all."
The boy tilted his head to the side and asked, "And nothing
is not an acceptable condition?"
"It's all right if you're a monk or too drunk to notice,"
Aiden admitted. He laid his hand on Mohan's shoulder and
continued, saying, "You're not quite old enough yet to appreciate
the kind of drives men have, Mohan. Trust me, you
will in another four or five years. When you find yourself
there, just remember that the giving women are a relatively
safe outlet. As long as you keep your wits about you and employ
precautions."
He nodded again and then stopped abruptly. "What kind
of precautions?"
It was a good question, a perfectly logical and understandable
one. But the answer was more than the boy needed
or could use at the moment. "Let's save that discussion for
another day, shall we? I've probably gone way too far already.
And for God's sake don't mention any of this conversation
to Alex. She'd have my hide for it."
"In which category of women does Miss Alex belong?"
"Well ... " The answer was as instant and clear as it was
infuriatingly painful to see. He had no business whatsoever
kissing her, much less hoping to draw her into his bed.
"She's like Seraphina:' he admitted aloud, the words thickening
in his throat. "She's the kind of woman that a man
marries for love."
"I thought so," Mohan countered, nodding enthusiastically.
"You sometimes look at Miss Alex like my father
looks at my mother. Are you hoping to marry her?"
"Your mother's already married," Aiden pointed out,
dodging the issue, furious with himself for having been so
blinded by desire.
"I meant Miss Alex, and you very much know that. You
are attempting to evade giving me an answer."
Angry with being pinned into a comer, angry at Alex for
not being what he wanted her to be, he replied, ''The answer's
no. I'm not planning to marry Alexandra Radford. Is
that definite enough for you?"
''That is good. My father would be most displeased if she
were to marry someone else."
It took a second for the words to fully penetrate his resentment.
"Whoa right there!" he demanded, catching the boy by
the collar of his coat and hauling him to an abrupt stop. "What
are you saying? That your father intends to marry her?"
Mohan shrugged. "Perhaps my father. Perhaps some other
raja."
"But you told me just yesterday that your father considered
her too stubborn to be a good wife."
"She is greatly improving by the day, is she not?" Mohan
asked, smiling broadly. "My mother has always said Miss
Alex would. In time. And with the right man."
He didn't want to think about the possibilities. Not in any
sense directly connected to Alex, anyway. "How many wives
does your father have?"
"When I left India, he had four. And a dozen mistresses.
He is a very wealthy man. With, as I understand what you
have told me today, much of the man's drives."
Sixteen women at his beck and call? Sixteen to keep
pleased? "God, I guess. Either that or he's just plain crazy."
"You will say nothing of your knowledge of this future to
Miss Alex, will you?"
He blinked, pulled from his imaginings. "Why? Is it a secret?"
Mohan knitted his brows and pursed his lips. After a moment
he said, "I think so. It is a matter never spoken of in the
presence of Miss Alex." He brightened a bit to add, "I spoke
of it now only because I like you and do not wish you to
build hopes for something that you cannot have. I do not
want to see you disappointed at their collapse."
In certain respects, it .was too late for that. ''Thanks,'' he
groused.
"You are upset"
"Not about anything in particular," Aiden lied, starting
down the walkway again. "It's just been a helluva day so far,
Mohan. One helluva day."
"And it is very early yet."
/> Yes, it was. And if the rest of it went as the hours just past,
he'd have to seriously think about shooting himself. God,
what a damn inconvenient time not only to remember that
he'd been raised to be a gentleman, but also to remember
what had to be the one and only scrap of useful information
his father had ever given him. He'd opened a door with Alex
he shouldn't have. How the hell he was going to get it shut
again without hurting her feelings or insulting her ...
Christ, doing the right thing would be ever so much easier if
he even remotely wanted to do it.
Chapter 10
It was the third stop of what Alex was coming to think of as
their tour of London's highs, lows, and in-betweens. The
first place had been a rather seedy boardinghouse where
Aiden had gone to look for a man named O'Brien. No explanation
had been given as to why they were looking for
him; not as they'd alighted from the carriage and not as
they'd climbed back in without having seen him.
The second stop had been the offices of Barrett Stanbridge.
Only Quincy had been there and he'd been none too
happy to see them all traipsing in to deposit three-day-old
snow on the anteroom carpet. Aiden had spoken with him in
hushed tones and Quincy had gestured wildly to a stack of
papers on his desk before throwing his hands up in a gesture